Beneath the Willow
by zpplnchick
Summary: A story of love, loss, and a heart broken in two. PostHogwarts-EWE. Romance/Drama/Tragedy/Angst. DHr one-shot.


Summary: A story of love, loss, and a heart broken in two.

Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful HP universe that JK Rowling created, nor "_Whiskey Lullaby_" – that song belongs to Bill Anderson and Jon Randall who composed it, and Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss who performed it. The title of this story is also borrowed from the lyrics of the song as well.

Warnings: Hoo, boy, there are plenty. First and foremost, this is a story that involves the effects of war, and in war, no one escapes unscathed. In other words, quite a few people die, major and minor. It is also HEA-less so be prepared. I, in no way, want to scare anyone away, but I just want to warn people: though there are bits of fluff thrown in, this is an angst-ridden fic. Watch the music video for "_Whiskey Lullaby_" and you'll understand.

Swearing, references to smutty action, and alcoholism are also present. Oh, and this is a _long_ one-shot. Sorry about that as well.

A/N: Canon up until the end of HBP. I play with the details of DH but not everything coincides exactly as it did in the book. Basically, I stayed as true to the book as I could, but some things were changed to better fit the story. In the world of this fic, Draco did take up Dumbledore's offer and joined the Order, living with the others in number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Enjoy! And have some tissues handy… Seriously.

* * *

_Life is short but this time it was bigger  
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees  
We found him with his face down in the pillow  
With a note that said I'll love her till I die  
And when we buried him beneath the willow  
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby_

("_Whiskey Lullaby_" by Brad Paisley, feat. Alison Krauss)

* * *

May 14, 1999

The air was crisp. Colder than it should have been. Hermione stood in front of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, unmoving. The wind whipped around her, sending her brown curls flying. But even as they flew into her face, obscuring her vision, she stood still. With hooded eyes she stared at the door, unable to move neither forwards nor backwards.

A particularly deep gust of wind shot forwards and it cut through her coat, the chill going deep into her bones. She sucked in a shaky breath and with quiet resolution forced her hand to reach up and open the gate to her torment. The sound of the heels of her boots clacking against the pavement added to the whirl of the wind and the rustling of the trees as she walked towards the black wooden door of the Order's safe house. It had been abandoned ten months ago. Harry had given it over fully to the order after Voldemort was defeated last year and hadn't stepped foot in it since then. Nobody else had any use for it so it stood empty, a layer of dust gathering on top of the furniture.

The door creaked shut behind her and her heart, that which for the past year had only felt like a dull, rhythmic throb in her breast, suddenly began to beat wildly as if it could sense its other half. A renewed hope sprung inside her and she called out the name of the person she ached for daily. "Draco?"

A patter sounded above her, like feet pattering against the hard wood floor, and she took off running upstairs to where her bedroom was on the second landing. She threw the door open, only vaguely aware of the deep, resounding _thud_ when it hit harshly against the wall.

It was empty and everything was just as she'd left it last June. His jacket still hung on the bed post where he'd flung it last; her old boots still sat in the same spot on the floor from when she'd tossed them across the room; the bed was still rumpled – a layer of dust having settled over everything in the room. Her rapid heartbeat calmed down, leaving the familiar dull ache in her chest once more.

Hermione walked over to the bed and sat down, the mattress sagging under her weight. She lifted up a weary hand and grabbed his dark green jacket off of the bed post and cradled it against her breast, dipping her head to breathe in deep his fading scent. The familiar mixture of soap, bergamot, and spice sent tears to her eyes and a sob racked her body. The dull ache filled her and she lay on the bed, clutching the jacket close to her breast as she curled herself up in a tight ball.

The sound of the sobs from her heart tearing in two filled the small room, adding to the weak rustling of an old Weasley Wizarding Wheezes item buzzing across the floor in the hallway outside of the room.

* * *

_April 4, 1998_

"_Would you like some more tea, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked softly._

_Hermione looked up from the mug she'd been holding in front of her. "No," she answered to the woman who'd become like a second mother to her. "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks." She breathed a deep sigh and looked back down at the bright yellow mug, silently cursing the color's cheerfulness. _

_For the past three weeks everyone in the house had been on a standstill, not sure how to take the disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived. And as distraught as she was over the idea of her best friend's disappearance and possible death, it was the blond man he'd gone on the mission with that left her worried and sleepless. _

_Ron had taken a curse meant for her and had been in the middle of recovery when news of the whereabouts of Helga Hufflepuff's cup had come to light and therefore he could not go with Harry to retrieve it. And since Hermione had unofficially become the lead researcher for the Order, she was indispensable and could not leave with him either. So Draco had volunteered. They'd left last month on the third and hadn't been seen of or heard from since. The worry was beginning to eat her out alive. She'd barely slept and had eaten very little in the past month, her health taking the brunt of it._

_It was supposed to be a quick operation, gone for no more than a few days – a week at most. Yet, one month and one day later, they still had not yet returned. Mrs. Weasley broke first, three days after they were deemed 'missing'. She'd been in the middle of washing the dishes when the loud clatter of a broken plate sounded throughout the house and deep sobs tore from the kitchen. Hermione had watched as Mr. Weasley flew from the chair by the fire he'd been reading in in the drawing room to go comfort his wife. Since then, Hermione would hear Mrs. Weasley sniffling every now and then, but the woman had plucked up her strength and stayed strong for the rest of the Order – taking back her role as hen mother._

_Ginny broke next, a week and a half after her mum. Since Hermione had gotten together with Draco, she no longer slept in the same room as Ginny who'd moved in to the room across the hall. But the walls were thin and it was late at night when she'd heard it. Hermione had been lying in her bed on her side, staring at Draco's eagle owl quill on the desk when a loud bang and crunch sounded from Ginny's room, as if she'd flung a chair against the wall. Hermione had sat up, debating whether she should go over there and comfort her friend before deciding against it. Ginny needed this – needed to vent her anger and frustration. Hermione couldn't blame her. And as she lay back down and listened as Ginny took out her frustrations on her furniture, Hermione noticed that nobody else had gotten up either. Nor had they when the bangs stopped and the sobs started._

_Ginny was strong, full of fire and will, and everyone knew that she didn't need to be consoled with empty promises and soothing words. She needed time and space to grieve over the disappearance of her fiancé. _

_Hermione hadn't allowed herself to cry yet – just as Draco had made her promise. He'd be back, he said, and didn't want her worrying herself sick over him._

_So she'd stuck it out. She wouldn't give up on him just as he would never give up on her._

_Suddenly the front door bust open, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts. She cringed when Mrs. Black's portrait awoke – her resounding shrieks filling the house. _

"_Blood traitors! Filth! Scum!"_

_Hermione looked up from her mug and met Mrs. Weasley's wide eyes. The chair knocked over and the tea pot clanged against the counter as they both bolted towards the sound of grunts and scuffling at the front of the house. _

"_Harry!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, rushing over and crushing him into a hug. "Oh, my poor boy, where have you been? Are you hurt?_

"_I'm fine!" Harry said, his voice muffled against her shoulder as Mrs. Weasley practically hugged the life out of him. "I'm okay, Mrs. Weasley. I promise."_

"_Are you sure?" Hermione asked as she hugged her best friend, an ache beginning to settle itself deep in her gut. Where was Draco?_

"_Yes, Hermione. I'm fine, thanks to Draco."_

_Her blood began pumping in her ears. Thanks to Draco? What did he mean thanks to Draco? WHERE IS HE? "What? What do you mean? Where is-"_

"_HARRY!" Ginny shouted as she came barreling down the steps and threw herself onto him, smothering him in kisses. "Oh, my god! You're okay!"_

_Hermione stood there, watching the scene unfold in front of her. Tears began to cloud her vision as she watched the front door intently, waiting for the arrival of the arrogant blond. Her arrogant blond. "Harry?" she said quietly, her voice cracking on the syllables. _

_Harry paused while in the middle of hugging Ginny to his chest and whispering word into her ear and looked up at his best friend – anguish quickly overtaking his features. "I'm sorry, Hermione" he said as he let go of Ginny and began walking towards her. _

_The look in his eyes and the grief in his voice caused her knees to buckle and she hit the floor with a thud. Tears began streaming down her face as she whispered her disbelief. "No," she cried, shaking her head back and forth. "No. No. Not him. No! NO!"_

"_He didn't make it. We were attacked and he didn't make it."_

* * *

June 7, 1999

"Come on, Hermione. I'm not asking you to marry me. It's just one lunch!"

Hermione paused in lifting her hand up to take a sip from her mug. She slowly lowered her hand back down and looked up at the man sitting on the other side of the table. His sweet, earnest face was looking hopefully up at her, his eyes open and inviting. Her gaze swept over his face, one that she'd been looking at every day for the past eight years. He'd let his hair grow, the shaggy red strands growing past his ears – itching for fingers to sweep through it. But they weren't hers. Some woman would find love and companionship in her best friend – but it wasn't her.

She gave him a small smile and felt guilty at the spark of hope in his eyes before letting him down gently. Again.

"And one lunch would turn to what? One dinner? Then two dinners? Maybe some hand holding?" she asked softly. She watched as the hope left his eyes, knowing it would spark up again someday. He was relentless. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said as tears began to cloud her vision. "I can't."

Ron lowered his head, defeated once more. "Okay. Okay, Hermione," he said as he walked towards the exit before turning back to her. "But you do have to move on someday. And I'll be here when you do."

When she heard the front door close behind him she let out a large sigh and leaned her head back against the wood of the chair. After having a quick word with Harry, she'd moved in to the Order's safe house, number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Everyone had advised against it, saying she needed to move on. And she would – she would just do it here so that when she did choose to do so, he would be with her always.

She still slept in their bed, and resigned herself to the fact that she probably always would.

* * *

_May 5, 1998_

_Hermione slipped out of the room and took solace in the silence of the hallway. Finally. Some peace._

_She was just as happy as the rest of them that the war was finally over, Voldemort finally defeated and his followers soon to be committed and incarcerated forever. Really, she was. But the war had taken many lives and the grief had begun to take its toll on her._

_She needed to escape the happiness and celebration._

_She needed to mourn. For Draco. For Fred. For Remus. For Tonks. For Ginny._

_At the thought of Ginny, Hermione looked up the staircase and started to climb. She didn't stop once at the top, but instead continued softly down the hallway towards a room at the end of the hall, a room that not many people had wanted to disturb._

_They'd accepted that he had been as relieved over the end as they were – but he needed to grieve over the loss of his love. _

_Hermione knew the feeling._

_She didn't bother knocking, knowing he probably wouldn't answer anyway, and opened the door, shutting it softly behind her. She toed off her shoes and slowly made her way to the bed and lay down behind him, laying her arm over his body and hugging him close – just as he had done to her a month before._

_He drew in a shaky breath before grabbing her hand and wrapping her arm tighter around himself._

"_I'm sorry, Harry."_

"_I know. Me too."_

* * *

June 14, 2000

Hermione kicked off the sheets and turned on her side, away from her bed mate. That's all she could think of him as, really – her bed mate. He wasn't her boyfriend, wasn't her lover, and he certainly wasn't her soul mate.

She listened as he snored softly. He was a sweet man, just as he'd always been. And she knew he'd always be there for her. But the gaping hole in her heart where the dull ache constantly throbbed knew that that was all he'd ever be. A sweet man. Her good friend who'd always be there for her.

This had been the third time she and Ron had had sex and it tore her heart apart every time because she couldn't stop wishing it were Draco instead. But if she just closed her eyes, she could pretend it was his face looming above hers, his groans that were muffled against her shoulder, his fingers clasping her back, and when she came it was to the image of her blond lover, not the red-haired man with her now.

She always came silently – afraid the name pouring out of her mouth would not be Ron's, but Draco's, and she couldn't do that to her best friend. Not that.

It killed her inside to think it – but a part of her still thought he was alive. Like she could feel a part of him within her alive, and it was in nights like this that she let her mind wander to the night Harry told her of his death. Perhaps it was a way to keep herself sane, to remind herself that he was never coming back.

_April 4, 1998_

"_No," she cried, shaking her head back and forth. "No. No. Not him. No! NO!"_

"_He didn't make it. We were attacked and he didn't make it."_

_Everyone turned to look at Hermione's hunched form on the floor, her sobs filling the room, filling their hearts with remorse. Ginny's hands flew up to her face as tears began streaking down. Mrs. Weasley cradled her head in her hand as she started crying softly for the young and proud but brave, polite blond-haired boy. Harry left Ginny's side to crouch down in front of Hermione and hold her to him, offering as much comfort as he could to the girl who just lost the love of her life. _

_They all stayed like that for another fifteen minutes before Hermione's sobs began to taper off and Harry spoke up again, petting her hair as he did so. "Locating the Horcrux took longer than we thought, didn't find it for a week at least," he said softly. "We spent another two days trying to destroy it. Draco was hesitant at first, but he stabbed it in the end. We were just packing up to leave when Bellatrix and two of her cronies turned up. We were barely making it out of there, they came on too strong. I'd turned my back for a second to deflect one of the Death Eater's curses and when I turned back around Draco was on the floor. I barely made it out after that." Harry paused, hugging the broken girl to his body before going on. "It all happened so quick. I'm so sorry, Hermione."_

_He held her crumpled body to him as she let the despair fill the room with sounds that left everyone else in tears – for even if none of them cared for Draco as she did, nobody could deny the sadness at watching your best friend cry over the man she loved. _

* * *

July 3, 2000

Hermione lay on her side, facing away from him – hoping to Merlin he would fall asleep quickly and not want to cuddle.

He hadn't. Not that night.

"I know you still think about him."

Hermione closed her eyes, suddenly feeling immensely tired. "Of course I do, Ron. Just like Harry still thinks about Ginny."

"No," Ron replied quickly. "I mean when we make love. I know you still picture him when we make love. You think I hadn't noticed you close your eyes whenever I look at you? You think I hadn't noticed when you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying his name?"

Tears leaked onto the pillow as Hermione tried to suppress the sob rising in her chest. Oh, God – she was a horrible person, wasn't she?

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking in despair. What else could she say, really? She listened as he breathed a deep sigh.

"Will you ever love me?"

She bit her lip as more tears came rolling down the side of her face, creating an even bigger wet spot on the pillow. "Of course I love you, Ron," she whispered as she turned around and cupped his face in her palms, his sad blue eyes staring deeply into hers. "I wouldn't be who I am without you. You mean more to me than I know how to vocalize. I just…" she paused as she fought back another memory of platinum blond hair and deep chuckles that had invaded her mind, "I just need some time, all right?"

Ron, looking very resigned, flashed her a soft smile and pulled her into him before placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "All right. Let's just go to sleep, yeah?"

* * *

_December 13, 1997_

_"Granger."_

"_Yes, Draco?"_

"_What do you want for Christmas this year?"_

_They were both sitting on the couch, Draco behind Hermione with her nestled securely between his legs – both reading. She turned her body to look at him. "Why do you ask?"_

"_What good of a boyfriend would I be if I didn't get my girl everything she wanted?"_

_Hermione smiled. "Your safety would be nice. Some peace would be welcome as well. Perhaps some chocolate?"_

_Draco grinned down at her. "Chocolate I can do. Peace you may have to wait a while for, but I assure you I am doing the best I can. As for my safety, love, I promise I will always come back to you." _

_Hermione breathed a deep sigh and snuggled further into Draco's chest, taking pleasure in his warmth and the sound of his heart beat rhythmically thudding softly against her ear. "You better."_

_Draco chuckled and wrapped his arms around her._

"_What do you want?"_

"_Other than for this damn war to be over, just you, love. Just you and your safety."_

* * *

July 18, 2000

_Crack!_

He stood still in front of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, as the sun beat into his back and the stifling hot air soaked through his skin. He tried to control his breathing, but his heart rate was pounding furiously and his adrenaline was rushing through him. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears and was sensitive to every little thing around him, like the child laughing to his far left and the soft _ting_ of the bells sounding on the porch of number fourteen, Grimmauld Place.

Slowly, he took his first step towards the battered ex-home of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and felt his breath quicken, if that was even possible.

_She_ was inside, he could feel it. His boots clacked against the pavement as he swung the gate shut and walked up the steps to the grim black door. With a quick unlocking spell, he was inside and was unsurprised to find that it had not changed in the two years that he had been gone. That he had been missing.

He stepped slowly through the corridor listening for any sign of life when he heard it – her voice, laughing. The sound of it sent a warm shiver through him and he felt his muscles ease slightly, a soft smile curving at the corners of Draco's mouth.

He was home.

He walked slowly up the steps towards her bedroom, his boots trudging along the steps leaving scraping noises as he moved. He glanced briefly at the other rooms as he passed and found many of them empty, the clothing and other signs of inhabitance gone, but still the same. The furniture unmoved, the bed spreads unaltered. Other than the obvious lack of noise and life, it still could have been 1998, before he left.

He placed his palm, fingers outstretched, against the door and pushed slowly, eager to see her beautiful face once more when his breath caught at the scene before him.

* * *

Ten Minutes Earlier

Hermione lay back against the bed, her head resting on her hand as she stared up at the ceiling, aware that the person next to her was now awake. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shift and sit up before bending and reaching over the side of the bed. Her curiosity piqued, she turned her head to look at him and quirked an eyebrow at Ron's obviously panicked shuffling.

What in the world was he doing?

He paused, breathed a deep sigh and pulled back up, something now clenched within his large fist. Hermione's breath immediately sped up as her heart rate quickened, now on full alert. He was nervous, he was clenching something small in his fist, and he was looking at her with hopeful, blue eyes.

_Oh, God_.

"Hermione…I…I want to…"

She lay still, unable to move a single muscle. It was with extreme difficulty that she was even able to continue breathing.

"Look, I know that I'm not what you wanted. I know that sometimes you're only with me to ease the loneliness and that I can never become _him_, but we – he and I – we have something in common, see? As much as he was a git," he paused, seeing the sudden furious look on her face and quickly backtracked. "Right, sorry. But as much as he was, he still loved you and wanted to make you happy. Hermione, I want the same thing. Maybe I can never make you as happy as he could, but I'm going to live my life trying."

He held out the ring to her, and she appreciated the fact that he hadn't tried to force it on her finger himself. She slowly lifted her hand and grabbed it softly from his outstretched palm. It was a beautiful ring, there was no denying. It was white gold with a round cut diamond. Simple, elegant, beautiful. It was what she'd always dreamed of.

Were it not for a shift of circumstances, there would have been no resistance. Ron suited her very well and strived only to make her happy. But she could not neglect the part of her that wondered what Draco would have chosen for her, and wished, once more, with all her might that it was his grey eyes staring at her so hopefully – his chosen ring held in her fingers.

It would probably be platinum, and she smiled softly at the thought that he'd probably sneak green somewhere in there. Perhaps on the side surrounding the diamonds there would be emeralds. Or maybe the diamond would even be colored green. She'd always fancied colored diamonds.

And her heart wept at not ever having the chance to see it, to see what he'd pick out for her, to see how he'd truly propose.

She looked back up, and upon finding light blue eyes instead of molten silver, she made her decision.

Draco was gone. She would love him for the rest of her life, but he was gone and she had to move on. And Ron was a good man. A sweet man. He would make her happy. She smiled. "Okay."

His face split into a wide grin and he leapt across the bed and onto her, covering her body with his and holding her tight. His sheer excitement had her laughing in glee as she wrapped her arms around him as well. He pulled back and looked at her before slowly lowering to capture her lips in a soft kiss.

She pulled back to grin and slipped the ring on her finger. He lay back, pulling her along with him and together they admired the sight before she jerked her head up at her bedroom door slowly creaking open.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she first saw a pale hand, and her eyes trailed up to reveal strong arms covered by a thin long-sleeved shirt and then his face. _His_ face.

The whole world paused as she took in the sight of his beautiful face, those beautiful eyes and his tall, determined frame. He was alive! She felt joy bubble out of her and a smile began to form when she noticed the cold fury settle upon his features and she remembered.

She was not alone.

She watched as his eyes, those calculating eyes, flicked over to her left hand and she panicked at what she knew was there. What was not there just five minutes ago.

Oh, god. What had she done?

Draco moved from the door frame and disappeared from her sight and she leapt up, scrambling across the room to get to him in her haste.

He couldn't leave. He couldn't leave without allowing her to explain!

She caught up with him just as before he was able to wrench the front door open, grabbing on to his thin shirt and his wrist, forcing him to turn to face her.

"What do you want, Granger?"

Even through her grief, her elation, her panic, she could still hear his pain. The cold edge was not out of indifference, but pain, and she took comfort in it. She wasn't dead to him, despite the glare he was sending her and his rigid posture.

"Please, don't go," she pleaded.

He wrenched his wrist out of her grasp and spun, walking quickly towards the door.

"Draco, no. Please, don't. Draco! _DRACO_!"

He stopped short and closed his eyes at the hoarseness of her voice, the pain he heard within its depths, and allowed her to run to him and clutch his shirt in her fists.

"Please," she cried. "It's not what you think. I don't care about him, not like you. Please don't leave me again."

"You don't _care_ about him?" he asked as he glared at the single stone diamond engagement ring on her left ring finger. She immediately took off the ring and threw it into a corner of the hall.

"He _just_ asked me and you've been gone so long. I thought you were dead! I thought you were gone forever, I didn't know what to do. Please! This isn't what you think. I thought you were gone. I thought you'd been taken from me and I'd never see you again."

Her fingers had clasped on to his body and held tight, he could feel them digging into his skin. She was beautiful. Her hair was in disarray, her face was splotchy and tears were running down her face but she was still so incredibly beautiful that he had to fight to not kiss her right then and there.

But then he remembered her laughter, the ease at which she lay on top of Weasley and his resolve grew strong once more.

"No!" he yelled as he forced her form away from him. "If you can't wait for me for two years then you can't know what I feel! Didn't you, for one moment, think that there was a possibility that I was alive? That I was trying to come _back_ to you?"

She looked up at him stunned, before trying to speak once more through her tears. "Yes! I've thought that every single moment of every single day since you walked out on that stupid mission two years ago! Harry said you were dead but for two years _I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT_! But you didn't come back like you said you would!" She walked up to him and grabbed hold onto his wrist. "I don't want anyone but you! Ever! Please try to understand, Draco. You didn't come back and I thought you were gone."

He looked down at her small hand desperately clasping his wrist and gently pried off her fingers. "If you had disappeared, I would have waited a lifetime for you," he stated quietly before looking her in the eyes. "No. I would have spent my lifetime searching for you, never giving up. _That_ is the difference."

He slammed the door behind him as she crumpled to the ground in tears.

* * *

_January 12, 1998_

_Hermione sighed at the delicious feeling of the sponge sweeping across her back in soothing, slow circles – her ears trained on the sound of the suds foaming next to her ear and the soft splash of water. Having watched him throughout their school days and seeing him in action during missions, she knew him to be capable of cold fury and quick, harsh movements. He was indispensable on their side. But as she felt his fingers rub out the tension along her lower back, she also knew Draco to be extremely tender – full of soft touches and whispered words. His complexities were what drew her to him in the first place. _

_He was cold and calculating on the field, but fiery and passionate when thrusting into her late into the night, making her body thrum with pleasure. And she was amazed to find how quickly she came to realize she loved every little bit of him. _

"_You will marry me someday, won't you?"_

"_What?" Hermione asked, startled, as she spun around to face him and inadvertently knocked the sponge out of his hand. It flew across the room and landed with a squelch, splashing more water all over the floor and adding to the puddle that had already begun to form with her quick movements. She stared at him in shock and was quickly becoming agitated to find him eyeing the floor in amusement instead. "Draco!"_

_He swung his eyes to hers, happiness sparkling within their depths, and a small smile quirked at the side of his mouth. His left eyebrow arched. "Well?"_

"_Are…are you asking?" she sputtered._

"_That is usually the purpose of a question, yes."_

_She slapped him on the arm. "You know what I meant, you prat."_

_He grinned and grabbed her around the waist, spinning her to face and straddle him in the steaming bath. "I love you, Granger. Despite your horrible taste in music and friends and your bad cooking and the fact that your bird's nest of hair attempts to smother me every morning," he said as he wrapped a finger affectionately around one of her wet curls, "I love you. I'm not asking for you to marry me tomorrow or the next day or even next year, but I do know what I want and I want you to be the woman that walks towards me down that aisle – the woman I give my life to."_

_She felt tears waver in her eyes and she lifted a hand to sweep it through his wet locks. Hermione had always thought she'd wanted roses and lilies and candlelight whenever a man proposed to her, but as she stared into his hopeful eyes, she realized that none of that mattered. That was just the extra stuff to butter up the moment. This was what she wanted, who she wanted – a complex and beautiful man telling her he wanted her no matter what in the middle of a dingy bathroom with soapy water all over the floor._

"_So?"_

_Her face spread into an ear-splitting grin and a laugh bubbled out of her before she nodded her head frantically and crashed her lips against his._

* * *

July 28, 2000

Her eyes were puffy and her nose was stuffed up, requiring her to breathe through her mouth. She was both tired and not – everything seemed to move on as if in a haze. Time no longer meant anything. The days were just as cold and empty as the nights.

She'd heard the front door open and shut downstairs, of course, but knew that it wasn't him and so didn't bother moving from her spot on the bed.

Her bedroom door opened and closed and by the sounds of the footfalls against the wooden floor, she knew who it was but still did not move.

Harry sat on the edge of her bed. She didn't turn to face him.

"Do you want me to tell you?"

She nodded briefly, finally looking away from the dust settling on the edges of the floor and focused her gaze on one of the cracks in the wall instead.

"He's been in Argentina for the past year and a half. He'd taken three stunners all at once during that fight that knocked him out cold. That's why I thought he'd… When they realized he was alive, they took him to Voldemort where he was tor- err…"

She knew he was trying to spare her, and she'd already accepted that she didn't deserve that. "Go on," she said hoarsely.

"Where he was tortured for days on end until nearing insanity. Then they O_bliviated_ him and dumped him on a side street in Buenos Aires."

"Why didn't they…?"

"Because being penniless, mad, confused, and in pain in a foreign country was worse than what death would bring him and his family."

Apparently her puffy eyes were not done because tears sprung to them once more and her body shook with the horrifying news.

Harry grabbed her ankle, rubbing his thumb back and forth along her skin in an attempt to comfort her and she wept harder. When she finally calmed down slightly twenty minutes later, he spoke to her softly. "Give him time, Hermione. Give him time and try again."

Draco had disappeared for three days after leaving her the day he came back and wasn't seen until Harry found him at a Muggle bar downing himself with whiskey. He brought him back to his flat and called her. She'd rushed over, but even in his thoroughly pissed state Draco would have nothing to do with her. He'd yelled, cursed, and barred her from his person – both physically and magically – before holing himself up in Harry's bathroom and wouldn't come out.

He'd started staying at the Manor after that, and she'd tried since then but nothing worked. Her owls came back with the letters unopened and she had been blocked from his Floo. His wards had blocked her as well and she couldn't come within five-hundred feet of the Manor.

She didn't know what else to do.

She breathed a deep sigh before deciding. She'd give him another week, then she was trying again.

* * *

_February 7, 1998_

_Hermione sat on the sofa beside the fire in the library, enjoying the heat and the silence, her copy of _The Tales of Beetle the Bard_ on her lap as she read it once more, trying to understand Dumbledore's motives behind leaving her the book when the door burst open and Draco strode in, angry and tense. _

_She closed the tome and set it aside, waiting for the inevitable attack on her friends. She knew he had been training with several members of the Order, including Harry and Ron, and judging by the furious look in his eyes, it did not go in his favor. _

"_How did it go?"_

"_Fine," he ground out as he paced the length of the room._

_Hermione sat still on the sofa, her eyes the only part of her body moving as it followed his form, back and forth, back and forth. She waited, knowing he would speak when ready._

_He paced another eleven lengths before finally speaking up. "It went fine. I deflected everything and made no misses during the duels. All of my spells were spot on."_

_She tilted her head slightly at the mild incredulity she heard in his voice. He sounded almost confused about something. "What's the matter, then?"_

"_Its…I can't…It's my wand. It's different."_

_At this her eyebrows rose. "Is it damaged?" she asked, worried. There was no way he was going into battle with a damaged wand._

"_No, that's the part that's infuriating. It's fine." He had stopped pacing and was instead standing in the middle of the room, facing her. He rolled his wand between his fingertips, his eyebrows drawn together as he stared intently at it. "I can cast spells perfectly and deflect curses easily, but…"_

"_What?" she asked as she stood and walked towards him._

"_I…I feel like…I feel like I've lost something."_

_Wand lore was complicated, she knew. There was very little that they knew, even less that they were taught, and she quickly made a mental note to look it up later._

"_This must sound mad, but for a while…at least since…there was something extra. I felt it. And now I can't feel it anymore."_

"_How long? How long since it's been missing?"_

_At her question his lips tightened and his face set into a scowl once more. "The first training session."_

"_When Harry disarmed you?"_

_He nodded once. Pride was a distinct Slytherin trait and her Draco was a Slytherin through and through. _

_She was about to respond when Molly pushed the door open to announce that dinner was ready. Hermione nodded her head at the woman in acknowledgement and told her they'd be right down. "I can search through and see if I find anything," she said as she turned back to Draco, "but wand lore is tricky, at best, and there might not be anything available on what you're experiencing. But it's been working fine, you said? There's nothing actually wrong with it?"_

"_No, none that I can tell."_

"_All right," she responded before taking his arm and leading him out of the room. "As long as it's working and you aren't harmed because of it. But I will look and see if anything comes up."_

* * *

January 23, 2001

She had decided to take a walk. Clear her head. Get some fresh air. Get out of the house. Whatever it was people took walks for.

All she knew was that she needed to move. Formulate a plan.

Since he'd come back six months ago, Hermione had only seen him a handful of times – the most prominent being when he'd sought her out, stumbling into number twelve, Grimmaul Place, pissed drunk and in a rage. He'd grabbed her by the shoulders and screamed in her face, asking her why she broke his heart.

She'd tried to keep him with her long enough to explain but after he'd forcefully slammed his lips against hers, he'd broken away from her just as quickly as if burned then apparated away. She'd tried to follow him but once again found his wards blocked against her.

That was a month ago and her efforts since then had proven fruitless.

She got updates from Harry, the only person Draco would allow to see him, and her heart ached at the news he would deliver.

Firewhiskey. It was a deadly poison and Draco had taken to finding comfort within its burning depths.

Hermione opened the door to her home and shut it softly behind her. Her walk had done nothing but bring her chills in the cold weather. She was just about to hang up her coat when she heard voices coming from the end of the hallway.

"Hello?" she called, wary of whoever it was that had entered her home without permission.

She heard the scraping of chairs and louder voices, many of them, before the doorway to the kitchen burst open and Harry came through, followed closely by Luna and Ron. The utter panic on Harry's face was giving her chills and she began to have trouble breathing.

"Hermione, I-" He stopped short, as if unable to formulate the words. This only served to send her into more of a blind panic.

"What, Harry? What?"

"Hermione, it's Draco," Luna said serenely, placing her hand on her husband's arm to help calm him down. Harry looked as if he was having as much trouble breathing as she was.

Hermione looked from Harry to Luna, trying desperately to understand what it was they were hesitant to tell her, but it was in looking at Ron that her knees buckled. He'd hated Draco, she knew. He always had. That look on his face of utter sadness and sympathy over anything relating to the blond man signaled despair within her – something horrible had happened. More horrible than torture, more horrible than alcoholism, more horrible than going missing for two years.

Something like the loss of life.

* * *

Two Hours Later

"Where was he?" Hermione asked quietly, her gaze focused on the willow. Their willow.

"In his bed. We found this," Harry said as he took a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket and handed it over to her. "It was on the pillow next to him."

They were sitting outside on the back porch of the house. Luna had come out two minutes before to wrap blankets around them both to ward off the cold January chill before smiling softly at Harry and going back inside.

It had been an odd thing to see, them getting together, but Hermione knew they loved each other dearly.

She took the parchment from him and opened it, tears clouding her vision as she read the words scrawled in black ink.

_I'll love her until I die._

She held the note to her chest and hunched over, swaying back and forth with the force of her sobs.

The wind whistled around them, covering up the sounds of her broken heart. She thought she felt Harry cast a warming charm around them but was unable to distinguish between the chill of the air from the chill in her bones. "And it was the…"

"Yeah," he replied, hugging her harder. "The killing curse. His wand had rolled under the bed after he'd cast it."

They sat there until she could feel the cold seep through her skin. She couldn't tell if it was five minutes or five hours. Time was irrelevant.

"There's something I need to ask you."

She turned her gaze on Harry.

"His parents are gone, and besides Andromeda, he doesn't really have any blood family left. We could bury him at the family plot on the grounds of Malfoy Manor but I wanted to ask you…Well…Where you think he should be buried."

"Why would you think he shouldn't be at the Manor?"

"He was the last of the Malfoys, and I'm not entirely sure what will happen to the Manor – if the Ministry takes it upon themselves to seize and destroy it. Besides, you knew him best. You were the most important person in the world to him."

"The willow," she stated suddenly as she looked up at it. January had left the aged tree as decrepit as the rest of London, but it was still standing, still swaying and she couldn't think of anything more fitting.

* * *

_October 21, 1997_

_She was furious! That pompous little git thought he was so special. Ugh, she could hex him into next Tuesday for his arrogance, and would have too if Kingsley and Lupin weren't there. She was no longer a child, but she still felt the need to show respect in front of the two men and wouldn't start a fight and involve all of them when it was her battle alone to deal with._

_She stood outside in the back of the house next to the old yellowing willow tree and took comfort in the chilly air, hoping it would aid in cooling her blood. She hadn't even planned on going, Kingsley was just asking because he was unsure of what the team consisted of. But the fact that _he_ had spoken for her, and with such distaste – it was enough to set her teeth on edge._

_It should not have gotten to her so easily. He should not have gotten to her so easily. _

_But there was no denying it. Since he'd taken up Dumbledore's offer and joined the Order four months ago, he had gotten under her skin. Some days she wasn't sure whether she wanted to slap him or kiss the infuriating smirk off of his mouth instead. It drove her mad. He drove her mad. And he knew it too. The only comfort she could take was in knowing that she drove him just as mad as well._

_A cool breeze swept by and she pulled her arms closer around herself, staring at the leaves ruffling softly. Tears prickled her eyes in frustration but she bit her cheek and forced them back. She, absolutely, under any and every circumstance, would _not_ cry over him. Her heart rate began to calm and her breathing began to slow and she finally felt under control once more._

_That is, of course, until she heard the back door creak open and her senses flared alive with the knowledge that he was around once more. She always knew when he was around._

_She listened with a thumping in her chest as he walked slowly towards her, the leaves crunching under the shuffle of his feet, before he stood next to her. He was silent and she didn't even have to look at him to know that his anger was gone, but something else was present instead – a determination of sorts. Whatever he was going to say, he wasn't going to back down on it and she was afraid that she'd let him go once more without reprimand._

"_We're leaving in an hour and you aren't coming, Granger."_

"_What makes you think you have the right to decide what I do at all?" she ground out through gritted teeth._

"_I don't," he replied. "But I know that you are not going."_

"_Oh, and telling Kingsley that I won't be going because – how did you put it? Oh, right. 'We don't need her tagging along, and she'll just get in the way.'" She huffed, once again furious, and turned towards him. "I will have you know, you arrogant little prick, that I have been fighting for far longer than you've even been on this side and have become of immense importance. __**I**__ was there when Harry faced Voldemort off for the first time. __**I**_ _was the one that found out about the Basilisk. __**I**__ was the one with Harry going against all those Dementors by the lake. __**I**_ _was the one who held Harry's hand before he faced each task during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, helping him study, helping him train for the dragon and the egg and the labyrinth. __**I**__ was with him and Ron that night when we faced off against your father and the others at the Department of Mysteries. And __**I**__ was there fighting them once more four months ago so don't you DARE try and write me off as not worth your bloody time! You've been doing this for four months; I have been doing this for six years!" She was breathing heavily now, her voice having steadily risen in volume and full out yelling by the end of her speech._

_She turned away, itching to go into her room, lock it shut and spell it silent so she could scream out her frustration when his hand quickly shot out and caught her around the arm, pulling her back. _

"_I never thought you incapable, Granger. Far from it, in fact."_

"_Then what is it, Malfoy? Huh? What is it about me that makes me unworthy to go on the mission? Is it my blood? My gender? My hair? What?" she yelled._

"_Damn it, Granger!" he roared before pulling her against him and covering her mouth with his, claiming it. Stunned by the sudden and overwhelming feeling of him around her and pressed so intimately against her skin, she gasped, allowing him to kiss her deeper. He was everywhere, his scent, his presence, his hands, his lips – it left her blood pumping and adrenaline rushing. Before she could even take another breath she found herself kissing him back. He groaned at her compliance and walked her backwards until she felt the cold bark of the willow hit her back and wrapped her arms around him in turn. _

_It felt delicious, the weight of his body pushing hers against the willow, his soft lips moving against hers, his warm, sweet tongue sweeping alongside her own. He tasted of mint and honey. The only thing running through her mind was Thank God! Thank God! Thank God!_

"_That's why," he growled as he pulled his lips away from hers and relocated them to her neck, suckling on the skin he found there. "I've already lost a great deal and I'm going to lose more, but not you. Not. You."_

_It clicked in her mind then. Through the haze and the desire she discovered his reasoning and understood. It was the same every time he'd leave and she'd lock herself up in her room pacing back and forth – she didn't want to lose him either._

* * *

March 10, 2001

Hermione hated these things.

She'd only agreed because Mrs. Weasley had threatened her with bodily harm if she didn't come out at least once. It didn't help that Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, had also demanded her attendance, claiming it was mandatory.

Some nonsense about her being a war heroine and all that. It would look silly, they claimed, if a Ministry ball was held in honor of the light and the main players who brought defeat to Voldemort didn't attend.

What absolute rubbish, Hermione thought. The war had been over for almost three years – when would they allow them to live in peace?

She'd just escaped dull conversation with Eleanor Wispick, the Director of Ministry Relations, and hid behind one of the ice sculptures when her ears perked up at a name. His name.

"Did you hear about Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione had to stifle her gasp. She covered her mouth as she bent her head to hear more.

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently he died in January!"

"What? How can that be? I thought he died a month before the final battle at Hogwarts!"

"No! According to Missy Flinstine, he'd been stuck in Argentina. Poor soul. He'd been captured, tortured and then _Obliviated_ before being dumped all the way in Buenos Aires!"

Hermione felt her blood run cold. Who were these trollops and how did they know such things? And how _dare_ they speak of him so casually!

"No! How did they find him?"

"That's the thing, they didn't! Nobody knew he was still alive until he showed up last July."

"Wait. Was he injured terminally? I don't understand. You said he died in January."

"This…oh, Phyllis, this is the worst part. He died by his own hand."

The other woman, Phyllis apparently, gasped loudly and Hermione had to fight to control her temper.

"That's terrible! Why would he do such a thing?"

"They say it's because of a woman, but nobody really knows who."

"Well, I hope she meets justice! Poor lad, to go through all that then come to an end so tragically over a woman."

Hermione clenched her jaw. She'd heard enough. She walked around the statue and came face to face with two older women, only one of whom she recognized fleetingly as a secretary at the Ministry. "You both should be ashamed of yourselves," Hermione spat, letting her anger and guilt get the better of her.

She _really_ shouldn't have come to this stupid thing.

"Gossiping like two schoolgirls about things of which you can't even remotely understand! Draco Malfoy was a wonderful and brave man and I am sickened that you would speak about him with such casual frankness over his untimely and tragic passing. I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you."

With that she turned on her heel and headed for the bar, hearing a "Well! We certainly know who the woman is, now don't we, Phyllis!"

She paused and turned back to throw a glare at the two women before carrying on.

"Firewhiskey, please, and keep them coming."

* * *

_October 17, 1998_

"_Basil…Oregano…Bollocks, where's the- Oh, thank goodness. Okay, parsley."_

_She skimmed her finger down the rest of the ingredients list, making sure she had everything and set it in order of use on the counter top. _

_It was a chilly November day and she felt in the mood for spaghetti tonight. Hermione walked over to the pantry, grabbed a few cloves of garlic and set them beside the olive oil. She was just reaching into the cupboard under the sink to grab the tomato paste when a loud slam! was heard from the front of the house._

_Judging by the fact that she hadn't felt any shimmer of magic from the wards being disturbed and the person clearly knew the password for her front door, it could only be one of three people, and Hermione had a very good feeling as to who it was. She cracked a smile, knowing she was just about to hear how his date had gone. He'd been terrified earlier before he'd left, reduced to sweaty palms and nervous jitters._

_The kitchen door burst open and Hermione looked over to see a pale-faced and scared Harry standing in the doorway. Good lord. What did Luna do to him?_

"_Harry? Are you all right?" she asked as she started pouring the tomato paste into the pan and added water, stirring them together. _

"_She kissed me!"_

_Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling. _

"_And it was bad?"_

"_No."_

"_Was it unwarranted?"_

"_Not exactly."_

"_Then the date itself was bad?"_

"_No."_

"_So up until the kiss, it was going fine, but then she suddenly strapped you down and tortured you endlessly and you've only now just escaped?"_

"_What? No! Of course not!"_

"_Then, Harry, what's the problem?"_

"_I…"_

_Hermione no longer tried to hide her smile as she crushed the garlic and added it to the pan with the spices, stirring them into the sauce. "Please tell me you didn't just leave her stranded after she showered you with harmless affection."_

"_She surprised me!"_

"_I see that, but perhaps Luna deserves more than being stranded after her horror-struck date abandoned her – and all because she gave him an innocent goodnight kiss."_

_Harry groaned in defeat and deflated onto the nearest chair. "Shite, I've really messed it up now haven't I?"_

_Hermione grinned. "No. It's Luna. If anything, she was probably expecting it and is patiently waiting your return."_

_Harry's head rose off the table in quick motion. "I should go back?"_

_Hermione rubbed her hands on the apron and turned towards him, leaning against the counter and folding her arms. "Do you want to go back?"_

"_Well…I…"_

"_Harry, take a deep breath and stop worrying about everything for a minute. Do you want to go back?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Then do it. Nothing will happen that you don't want to happen. Just go over there and talk to her. She'll understand. She probably already understands. It's okay."_

_Harry rose from the table and was about to turn and leave before something stopped him. "Why don't you-"_

"_I can't, Harry. Please don't ask me to try."_

"_But if I can then maybe-"_

"_Harry, please. Don't. Just please don't."_

"_Okay," Harry said as he eyed the tight grip his best friend had on the wooden spoon she was using to stir her sauce. "Thanks, Hermione. See you later."_

* * *

July 24, 2002

"Thank you," Hermione said to the shop keep before she grabbed her bags and left the store, the bell tinkering behind her as the door closed. She closed her eyes for a brief second to enjoy the light warm breeze and the sunlight on her cheek before taking a deep breath.

It was a lovely day.

She checked both ways before jogging across the street, her shopping bags bumping against her thighs.

She stepped into an alleyway after making sure no one was looking her way and shrunk her packages, fitting them inside her pockets before turning away to walk home.

She took to walking everywhere within a manageable distance.

If it took at an hour or less, she walked.

It had started four months after Draco died – she couldn't explain it, only that she had this burning need to move. She'd walked for four hours straight that day, then another four the next day.

Her legs had burned and she'd had trouble keeping her breath, but she'd kept on going.

Now, since then, she walked everywhere. Perhaps it was to do something after so many years of being able to do nothing.

Not where it mattered, anyway.

Luckily, the bookstore she worked at was only twenty minutes away and didn't take long for her to walk the distance.

A month after the walking started, she'd started responding to the invitations for lunch, dinner, tea, and started going somewhere with someone at least once a week.

Then twice a week.

At least half of her meals now were taken in the company of someone else.

Sometimes Luna, sometimes Harry, sometimes it was them both. Every Sunday she attended brunch at the Burrow.

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't much, but it was something. She no longer ate alone every day and she was walking.

Thirty minutes later she was home and quickly eyed how her lavender was doing before going inside.

Eating with people, walking, and gardening. She'd also started redecorating the old home. Well, sort of. The house was rather temperamental and did not take kindly to her attempts at changing the wall colors, but not all of her efforts had proved fruitless. She'd managed to replace the old wooden flooring in the library with carpet and switched out the black, decaying cabinets in the kitchen with something lighter.

It was a slow process but it was happening.

She set all of the miniature shopping bags on the kitchen table before unshrinking them and started putting the newly purchased items away. The bread, the milk, the book on Mediterranean cooking she picked up.

She'd been meaning to try some new recipes and the one for spanakopita just looked too good to pass up.

She grabbed the frozen spinach out of the bag and crossed the kitchen to put it in the freezer until Saturday when she was going to use it in the spanakopita and had to jump back when a package of frozen chicken fell out.

"Ugh."

She bent to pick up the chicken and had to shift around some of the items in the freezer before she was able to make it all fit, and that's when she saw it. The ginger that Luna had used that one time when she'd made Teriyaki Chicken.

Ginger.

Suddenly, her eyes watered and she had to hold herself up using the kitchen counter to not collapse to the ground as a memory invaded her mind – one that was very similar to what was happening to her at this very moment.

_May 1, 1998_

_Hermione sat at the table in the kitchen, drinking a cup of Earl Grey tea, Draco's favorite, when Harry walked into the room._

"_All right?" he asked before backtracking. "Er… what I meant wa-"_

"_It's all right, Harry. I know what you meant. I'm just thinking."_

"_About?" he asked before pulling out the chair across from her and plopping down._

_She eyed the tea cup in her hands, rubbing her thumb along the edge before speaking up. "About everything, I suppose. About tomorrow, about everyone and their safety, about Draco…Draco…"_

"_Listen, Hermione, I know I've said it before, but I truly am very sorr-"_

"_Harry," she said as she grabbed his hands across the table, cutting him off from another apology. "I know you are, but please stop beating yourself up over it. It was quick, you were both fighting for your lives, it could have happened to anyone." She released his hands and again lowered her head to stare at her cup of tea._

_He had come back a month ago, alone and without Draco, and she still had trouble accepting it. She didn't blame Harry, of course, but something told her that Draco was still alive._

_It was probably silly and foolish to entertain such thoughts, but they cropped up within the recesses of her mind anyway. As did memories, many, many memories. She smiled softly as she took another sip of her tea._

"_What?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly as he eyed her smile._

"_Just remembering when Draco and Ron got in that horrible row over those cookies that Mrs. Weasley made."_

_Harry's bark of laughter sounded throughout the room. "Ron was furious. Kept insisting Draco purposely took the last one out from under him."_

"_Which I'm fairly sure he did," Hermione admitted around a grin._

"_Her gingersnaps are legendary."_

"_Even Ginny hoarded a few, wouldn't tell me where they were."_

"_As if you hadn't had any stashed up in your room as well. I know I did."_

_Hermione shrugged casually. She set her cup back down after draining the last of her tea and pushed it away to the side._

"_You'll be all right for tomorrow?"_

"_I'll be fine, Harry. It's you we're all worried about."_

_He lifted a shoulder in response. "We have all of our information. It's the last one besides the snake, right? Just have to keep going until they're all destroyed."_

_Hermione nodded her agreement. Just keep going. Just keep going. Just keep going._

"_Goodnight," he bid, walking towards the entryway._

"_Goodnight."_

_She waited until she heard his steps run up the stairway and the door of his bedroom click shut before she stood to clean up. It was as she was rounding the corner around the table that it hit, the pang within her heart and she had to pause before she controlled her breathing once more and finished her task. _

_It happened occasionally throughout the days, the pangs – her heart thudding with pain and memories. She loved and hated each one. _

_Hermione trudged up the steps and entered her bedroom, closing the door behind her softly. The tears started to waver as she undressed, her face crumpled by the time she climbed into the sheets, and a sob tore through her when she lay her head on the pillow as a memory stole her conscience once more._

To say that it was hard was to put it lightly.

It had gotten easier, slightly, in the past year and a half, but nothing would ever fill the hole that had lodged itself in her heart permanently on that painfully cold day in January.

Her arms eventually lost their strength and she slid to the floor, only vaguely aware of the chill that radiated from the open freezer door on her bare arms. She pulled her knees up and laid her head on top of them and waited for most of the pain to pass before she released a deep breath.

She could get through this.

Fifteen minutes later she stood up on shaky legs and shut the freezer door before walking slowly back towards the table to put the rest of her grocery items away.

She folded up the reusable bags and placed them on the counter before bending her knees to put away the two canned peaches she bought.

She saw something out of the corner of her eye, and before she could give it a second thought or reconsider, she grabbed the Firewhiskey, a glass from her cabinet, and left the kitchen for the library.

She'd thought about just drinking from the bottle, but knew Draco would have drank from a glass.

So that's what she did.

* * *

April 14, 2003

"Come on," Harry said as stood Hermione's drunken form, placing one of her arms around his shoulders to keep her up and held tightly to her side as he walked her to her bedroom.

"No…" Hermione whimpered. "Let me stay."

"I'm just taking you to bed, Hermione. You've had a long night."

"You need some help, love?" Luna asked as she picked up the empty Firewhiskey bottles and used tissues and vanished them with a wave of her wand.

"Yes, please. After I get her upstairs, can you get her into bed?"

"Of course," Luna said as she came around to Hermione's other side and pulled the brunette's other arm around her shoulders to help her husband.

All the while, Hermione kept muttering softly, "It was my fault…my fault…my fault."

…

"Is she asleep?" Harry asked once Luna entered the room twenty minutes after he left them alone in Hermione's bedroom upstairs.

Luna nodded as she came to sit with Harry on the sofa, facing the fire roaring in the fireplace. She reached up to smooth away his hair from his forehead and lightly ran her fingers through the strands, scratching his scalp.

Harry immediately closed his eyes at the sensation, only to furrow his brow a second later. Luna reached up her other hand to wipe away the stray tears that made their way down his cheeks.

"Do you think she'll be all right?" he asked his wife, pain and tears tightening his throat.

"She's trying. That's all we can ask for – that she keep trying and we keep helping her when she falls."

Harry nodded and reached out to pull her close, reveling in the feeling of how her cool, dainty hands swept through his hair and the way her light, citrusy, Luna scent invaded his senses.

"It's just that lately she's been getting worse. I don't know when she'll get better. She was doing so well."

"I know, honey. I know."

* * *

_October 29, 1997_

_She sat on top of her bed reading the notes Dumbledore left in the margins of _Babbity Rabbity and Her Cackling Stump_ when her door flew open. She whipped her wand off of the nightstand and pointed it at the disturbance before even blinking an eye but took a deep breath and lowered it upon seeing Draco in her doorway and not a Death Eater wishing to murder her on the spot._

_Upon recognizing him, her first instinct had been to jump up and wrap her arms around him, but she wasn't sure what the protocol was for situations like this. She hasn't really dated much and therefore didn't know how to act when the man you'd snogged for the first time just eight days earlier finally came home from a mission and barged their way into your room._

_It was seamless though, their joining, and she really needn't have worried._

_As she stood to meet him, he began walking towards her slowly, chucking his gloves to the side as soon as he had them off and throwing his jacket onto her desk. They met in the middle of the room and she swayed with the power of his body as he captured her mouth with his. _

"_Fuck, I missed you," he revealed against her lips as he pushed her against the bed and laid her down gently._

"_God, Malfoy, I've been worried sick."_

"_Yeah?"_

_She rolled her eyes; she could practically feel the smirk against her neck. But then he did that thing where he sucked on her pulse and she forgot why she was rolling them in the first place._

She lost herself within him that night… then many, many more times after.

It was beautiful.

* * *

November 16, 2003

"Luna, can you please check the kitchen? If there's nothing there I want go shopping. Thanks, love."

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Hermione, we came to check up on…Hermione? Hermione? Hermione! NO! HERMIONE! _HERMIONE_! LUNA! CALL FOR HELP!"

* * *

_November 16, 1997_

"_You're always so warm. Like my own little furnace."_

_Her head bounced lightly where it was lying on his chest as his deep chuckles invaded her senses. She smiled softly and continued tracing patterns on his skin with her fingertips._

"_What did you think I would be? Cold?"_

"_Truthfully? A little bit, yeah. I'd always imagined you to be cool to the touch. I suppose it's what I'd associated with what I'd known of your personality."_

"_And now?"_

"_Now I know better, don't I?" she said as she shifted atop him and rested her chin on his shoulder, taking in his peaceful and languid expression. "I…"_

_He stiffened, sensing her hesitancy, as his eyes searched her face as if puzzling out an answer. _

_Good lord, he knew what she was going to say before she even had the courage to say it, didn't he? She dove in anyway._

"_I love you."_

_His face broke out into a dazzling smile and he pressed his lips against hers. "I love you, too."_

* * *

November 16, 2003

Luna held Harry as he sat on the floor, rocking him back and forth as his sobs tore through the hallway. She stroked his hair softly and murmured whispered words into his ear meant to bring comfort and ease the pain of his best friend's death.

"I failed them," he said with a deep moan. "I failed them both."

"No, honey, you didn't," Luna said as she pressed a kiss against her husband's temple. "There was nothing more you could have done. The war took something from us all, but it took them from each other. There's nothing anybody could have done."

Harry let out another sob at the mental image of her face down in her pillow, her body still; the life gone from her eyes when he turned her over. It wasn't _Avada Kedavra_, they said. She just couldn't go on anymore. His picture was clenched within her fist and his jacket was lying on the pillow next to her.

"I'm surprised she lasted so long," Luna whispered, her fingers never having stopped combing through Harry's unruly hair. "A person can only go on so long with a heart broken in two. She did the best she could, love, but Draco's death took everything out of her."

* * *

November 20, 2003

The air was crisp. Colder than it should have been. Ron, Harry, and Luna stood side by side, each looking down at the white coffin before them. For so tragic an event, the service was beautiful. Kingsley had officiated and had allowed Harry, Ron, and McGonagall a chance to speak.

They talked of her passion, her bravery, of her never ending kindness – but mostly they talked of her huge heart and the everlasting love it was capable of. They all had witnessed a piece of it, many had held a part of it, but none more than the man that lie in the ground next to her.

Harry raised his wand and the coffin slowly lowered to the ground, a puff of dirt rising softly as it settled softly at the bottom of the grave. Together with Ron, the two men both grabbed a shovel each and covered her coffin slowly with alternating heaps of dirt, one by one.

Luna vanished the shovels with her wand as soon as they were done and the two men stood beside her once more.

A sharp breeze cut by, ruffling the leaves of the willow Hermione and Draco lay beneath and Harry shuddered, holding Luna closer to his body.

"Goodbye, Hermione," Luna whispered over the wind as she laid the daisies on their graves. "Goodbye, Draco."

Ron took a deep breath as tears rolled down his eyes and he stepped forward and laid his hand on Hermione's gravestone, his thumb rubbing across it softly. "Bye, 'Mione. I'll love you forever." He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand and turned towards the other marble headstone and nodded solemnly. "Treat her well, Malfoy."

With that, he turned, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked away slowly.

Harry released Luna's hold and stepped forward, standing between the two graves as he hung his head in sadness. "I'm sorry, you both. I did what I could but it wasn't enough. I hope you find the peace and happiness that you were both missing, together. I'll make sure nobody forgets you guys or your story, okay? Rest in peace. I love you, Hermione. And Ron's right, Draco. Treat her well…Goodbye."

He grabbed a hold of Luna's hand and they walked back towards the house in silence before she paused and turned back towards the willow. Harry turned towards her and watched as his wife looked around as if trying to see something before her eyes focused on a certain spot and sparkled, a smile stealing her face. He was about to ask what it was when she turned towards him.

"I think they'll be happy together now."

Harry turned towards the willow but saw nothing except its strands of leaves blowing softly. He smiled softly at Luna, thinking once more of the magic she had always seemed to see beyond what anyone else could. "I think so, too, my love. Come on."

* * *

_We laid her next to him beneath the willow  
__While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby  
__La la la la la la la  
__La la la la la la la  
__La la la la la la la  
__La la la la la la la_

* * *

A/N2: Thank you so much for reading. Please review and tell me what you thought.


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